Canadian Frustrations
by Silverra
Summary: Canada is getting really frustrated about being ignored all the time. He decides to get a notebook to write it all down to feel better. But, what started as an innocent diary-type thing suddenly became a list of reasons why Canada hates the world...
1. Chapter 1

**A.N. **

**I just came up with this and wrote it as quickly as I could so I wouldn't forget. Please, please, please tell me if there are any mistakes or something of the sort. This is the first fanfic I write by myself so I'm a bit nervous :S Tell me if I should continue this! I'm not too sure about it... I do have a few plans for it though. **

**Anyway, enjoy! **

**Warnings: swearing**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia [I am planning to do something about it though... :) ]**

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><p><strong>Canadian Frustrations<strong>

Chapter 1

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><p>As Canada entered the building, he couldn't help but think about how he would honestly prefer heading back up in his great country to just relax and enjoy this beautiful spring day. How wonderful it would be to go visit one of the several lands he owned throughout the vast country.<p>

Today, his mind was set on one particular cottage he had in the province of Québec, about an hour away from his home in Ottawa, where he would be surrounded by maple trees. He had bought this place in hopes of making his own maple syrup instead of buying it from the store. Being the personification of where this (oh so lovely) product came from, he thought it was about time he made his own maple syrup. Home made is always better than store bought, isn't it?

And of course, just when the middle of March came up, the only time throughout the entire year in which one could actually make maple syrup, he had to be sent to New York for a World Summit. How frustrating! Doesn't anyone know that Canadians only have about three to four weeks to produce the stuff before the tree sap can't be used anymore? You need cold nights and (relatively) warm days! It's precious time completely wasted! He would only be gone for one week, but still...

Of course, he was rather angry when he reached the room in which the meeting would be held. As usual, he could already hear some arguing before opening the doors. _Why do I even come here? _he thought bitterly as he took his seat next to his brother. _No one listens to me anyway. Well...I guess it isn't really their fault if I'm pretty much invisible. Maybe if Alfred wasn't so obnoxious and loud they would-_

"Hey, Mattie!"

Matthew barely had time to register what was going on before being lifted off his seat and crushed by a killer 'hero' hug. It took him a few moments to catch his breath after being released before answering his energetic brother. _Well at least he remembered to say hi to me this time... Good job, bro._

"H-hey Alfred. So, how are..." he began, before realizing his brother was already off to go bother 'Iggy'.

"Oh, don't worry about me. Just crush my entire body and ignore me. That's cool," Matthew muttered as he returned to his seat. "Fucking hoser..."

He calmly watched as the other nations made their way to their seats. Most of them were actually on time for once. Even the Italies, who seemed to have been dragged by a rather angry looking German.

One of them looked like a child who just woke up to find a bunch of exciting people in his living room and kept chanting a steady pace of '_Ve, ve, ve~_'s as he followed Germany to his seat. The other, his face already redder than Matthew's when he gets embarrassed (he is pretty much the only country who can manage that), made his way towards an oblivious Spain standing in a corner of the room talking to France. As he walked behind him, Matthew caught a few mumbles about "god damn potato bastards waking me up", "stupid fratellos", "french perverts", and "stupid tomato bastards".

As Matthew returned to his thoughts about his cottage, he vaguely heard a muffled "Ah Lovi~ ! You look just like a tomato! How cute!" and someone yelling "Can't you see that French pervert molesting you, bastard?".

_Why do I have to be surrounded by such...such...Ugh. I'm too tired for this,_ Matthew thought as he slowly took out his notes for the upcoming meeting. Germany stood as the remaining nations took their seats and began reviewing the topics for today before starting with the actual meeting.

Matthew had already started zoning out. He always read the memos (unlike most people) so he knew what the whole meeting would be about. On top of that, after years of attending those meetings and knowing the other nations, he can basically predict the outcome of the whole thing: absolutely no progress whatsoever.

But, of course, because the meetings are considered _necessary_ and _important _(mostly by Germany), he still attended, and read the memos, and payed attention (most of the time) to the topics (yes, even when it was Alfred talking about global warming), and even tried to give his opinion. Tried...yes. Of course, no one actually paid attention to him. _God damn hosers..._

Like any other person would, Matthew was getting rather annoyed by all the others ignoring and forgetting him all the time. He would spend so much time just thinking about it and getting more and more frustrated. However, like the good little gentleman he was raised as, he never expressed those (perhaps a bit childish, he thought) frustrations and kept them all in.

It worked for centuries. _Worked. _It hasn't been going too well lately. He already exploded and went on a rant against America and made him cry. It felt _sooooo_ good but right after he felt _sooooo_ guilty. He knew he had to do something about it. He didn't want to have to spend hours in a McDonald and waste all his money to get the 'Hero' to man-up and stop crying.

He thought about it for a while and decided that the best thing to do was to write down all the things that frustrated him. That way, he could vent and express all his frustrations AND no one would know! _No one_. That was very important... It was perfect!

That's why, about four months ago, he purchased a simple red (duh) notebook in which he decided to write down everything that ticked him off. As he had predicted, most of it was about being invisible and ignored, about being mistaken for America, and about how he hated being so shy and socially awkward. There were a lot of things about his brother being a selfish and obnoxious ass and England only caring about America. He also wrote down things about how stupid it is that even his bear (Kumakuma? Kumakita? Kuma...Kumasomething. Whatever, who cares.) couldn't remember who he was.

In the last month, however, Matthew noticed that his 'frustrations' weren't only about his personal little problems. Actually, most of the things he wrote now were about other nations. It all started, obviously, with America. Then it went to England...France...Italy (he surprised himself with that one)...South Korea (who the fuck claims breasts?)...Russia...China...Germany...

He started writing down pretty much everything they did that was rather...unpleasant. Or just a bit frustrating. Like how Italy always says "ve~", and how America thinks he's a hero, and how Russia acts all scary and goes "kolkolkol", and how Germany yells for no god damn reason, and how Spain thinks that fucked up and vulgar Italian guy is cute and looks like a tomato and why the fuck does the Spaniard feel the need to end every sentence with "~"? What the hell!

Okay...so maybe it started with "a bit frustrating" but it developed into something that would be better described as "holy fuck they are so fucking annoying. Fuck". Basically, by writing everything down, Canada realized how he pretty much hated every god damn nation that exists.

_Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up..._ he repeated in his head as Germany was edging towards the end of his little speech. _Fuckiiiiiiinnnnnnggggg..._

"America," continued Germany, "you may now begin with today's first topic."

A few groans were heard throughout the room, as they all knew what was coming up. Canada just sighed and took out his precious notebook (which he always sneaks into meetings...he writes most of his rants during those times. Being surrounded by the nations provided better writing and ranting material). _Time to get this shit started._

America beamed and walked to the front. He took a dramatic pause and scanned the room before starting.

"Being the hero, it's my job to find the solutions to all the world's problems," he stated, still smiling obnoxiously.

Matthew rolled his eyes as England said something about a git, and proceeded to turn the pages of his notebook until he found the section dedicated to America. Out of all the nations, he had the largest number of pages dedicated solely to him. That's right. Every nation had a specific section. Matthew can be pretty organized when he feels like it. Thank god he bought a pretty big notebook.

"And so," continued America, "I will begin by explaining to you all my new, brilliant plan to solve the current issue."

Matthew raised his pencil and got ready to write down all the stupid things his brother would do and say...again. He didn't even bother to check if anyone was looking at him as he did so. He knew his invisibility had him covered. He thought about it for a moment and shot a quick glance around the room. He liked to look around sometimes and just laugh quietly at all the unsuspecting nations who had absolutely no idea that they were being so cruelly judged by a 'nice, shy, and really polite' Canadian.

_Oh, right. Alfred is talking. I can't get distracted_, Matthew remembered. He looked at Alfred, feeling the anticipation and rush he always felt when he was about to write in his notebook.

"Here is how I plan to stop Global Warming."

**A.N. Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N. Hello again! Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews! I was so happy that I wrote and posted the second chapter much faster than I expected to! Really, everyone thank you for your support and wonderful comments! **

**Warnings: swearing, use of Quebecker swears and dialect (translations and explanations at bottom)**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned everything...who wouldn't? But yeah...I don't own shit...**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><span>Canadian Frustrations<span>

Chapter 2

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><p><em>Mon dieu... C'est impossible d'avoir quelqu'un d'aussi con que lui...<em> thought Matthew as he wrote down the best quotes from his brother's speech. All the nations were so thrown off by the whole thing that none found the will to say anything. They just stared at America in awe as he went from one horribly drawn sketch to another, explaining each of them with (unnecessary) enthusiasm.

Matthew scanned the room and took the time to carefully look at every nations' face. He had trouble holding in his laughter at the sight of all the obvious confusion, exasperation, and disbelief staring at America in complete silence. Even England couldn't get a single sound out of his mouth, left dangling open. Although, on his face, the dominant emotions were embarrassment and anger as he watched his prized ex-colony make a complete fool out of himself and, consequently, out of the one who raised him...again.

_Who's the best colony now, cristie d'Anglais?_ _Tu r'grettes d'avoir passé tellement d'temps avec c't'ostie d'moron là, hein? Ostie d'pédale de criss... _Matthew thought bitterly, face reddening in slight anger.

He looked away from the Brit-in-distress and returned to his intricate task of quoting Alfred. He noticed the other was taking one of his numerous 'burger breaks', so he took that moment of glorious silence to review the best quotes so far.

_Alfred F. Jones: quotes of the day_

"_I am against global warming. Whoever is for it is either a terrorist or a commie."_

"_You've all heard about my good friend Sarah Palin right? The one who lives in Alaska? With all the snow?"_

"_And that's when it hit me: snow is cold!"_

"_And it's at that point that everyone should take out their ice cube trays and ship them all to Washington."_

"_I have a theory. If we can find a way to tame the beasts, Iggy's eyebrows could actually be used to carry all of the ice. For __**free**__."_

"_If we really need to, we can lower the temperature dramatically just by switching from Fahrenheit to Celsius."_

"_That's what Canada's polar bear told me."_

Every quote was accompanied by a few sketches, may it be of America himself or the other countries' reactions. Matthew also amused himself by putting the words into images and making little comics. The one with England's eyebrows sent him into an unstoppable giggle fit.

He caught himself as France looked at him questioningly. He felt his face growing hotter as he tried to come up with some sort of explanation while looking at everyone else to see how many others noticed.

_Oh. Everyone else is still focused on Alfred... That's good... I guess..._

He calmed down a bit. Although it was rather disappointing that the others wouldn't notice him even after he was giggling like a school girl for a good five minutes, he was relieved to know he would only have to deal with France.

He looked back at the nation sitting across the table. France would usually be sitting rather close to him, but his boss strictly forbade the man from getting close to England, who was in his usual seat near Canada, for the next few days. Something about lipstick and a broom...

Matthew smiled uneasily, still unsure of how to explain his sudden outburst. France's confused expression shifted to a more knowing and amused one. With a smirk, he discreetly took out his cellphone and typed rapidly before putting it back in his pocket, making sure that the eternally angry Germany wouldn't catch him texting during a meeting. He shot one last glance at his _petit Matthieu_ before turning to America who had started speaking again.

Matthew was confused. Did he figure it out?

_No...he wouldn't. This is Francis. __**Francis.**__ He can't think of anything other than l'amour~, romance, and sex. I'm safe..._ thought Matthew as he felt his own phone vibrate in his pocket. He peeked at the screen and felt relieved to see that he was right.

From: 'Papa'  
>Message: Ah, mon cher Matthieu. Bien que j'aime te voir enfin courtiser une demoiselle avec des lettres d'amour, il est mon devoir, en tant que ton cher Papa, de m'assurer que tu le fasse comme il se doit. Viens donc me voir plus tard, dans un endroit plus romantique, et Papa t'aidera avec cette chère petite dame. Et peut-être plus... ;)<p>

Matthew sighed in frustration and quickly replied to Francis that _no, he didn't need any of his 'help' for anything_.

_C'est quoi son problème à c't'e criss de Français là? Why the fuck would I need some help with anything? Especially from him,_ Matthew began rambling in his head, completely ignoring America's words. _Like fuck, who does he think he is just assuming I need his help? "Oh yeah, he'll be fine if I give him up to that weird big eyebrows dude who says he can see fairies, but I think it's necessary for me to be there if he starts talking to girls." Va. Chier. Tabarnak._

He spent the rest of part one of the meeting drawing sketches of France being the victim of various things. One involved England and a truck full of scones. In between sketches, he wrote down a few additions in the list of Reasons Why Francis Shouldn't Exist. He started by repeating everything about how he's a completely perverted ass (most of the things he wrote about France were somewhat related to that. But it's not like he had a choice...it basically _defined_ him...) and about how he abandoned him but still insists on being called _Papa_. Then Matthew suddenly felt inspired and found completely new reasons to dislike France!

_#73: His chest is awkwardly hairy__. It's weird. I don't like it. (angry face)  
>#74: He smells like garlic rather often. I don't like it. (disgusted face)<br>#75: He's the personification of France. I don't like it. (sad face)_

Satisfied, he closed his notebook, picked up his things, and headed out for the short break. Well, he tried, but there seemed to be some commotion at the door.

"CHIGIIIII! F-fuck off you evil french b-bastard! D-don't touch me! Spaiiiin!"

"Ahahaha~ Francis, would you mind staying away from my little Lovi~? I didn't really like the way you touched him there, ahahahahaha~"

_Oh god fucking-no. No, no, no, no, no. I'm not in the mood to deal with France's new molesting techniques or Spain's creepy over-protective conquistador mood. They better get the fuck out of the way or I'll-_

"Ow! Watch where you're going! You could have hurt yourself with my awesomene...Oh hey Birdie! Didn't see you there! Are you trying to get closer to watch the show too? Kesesesese~"

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh god not him... Ignore and walk away, ignore and walk away, ignore and walk away..._

"U-um...hey Prussia..."

_I'm a fucking genius,_ thought Matthew._ Why do I have to always run into him when I...wait. He's not even supposed to be here._

"H-hey Prussia? What are you doing here? I thought Germany had you kicked out for good..." he shyly asked, somewhat afraid of the answer that would come out from the (borderline crazy) albino.

"Kesesesese~ No one can stop the mighty Prussia from doing what he wants!" he exclaimed proudly. "So I sneaked in when America was talking about frozen pizza space bombs and hid under the table! Kesesese~"

_Why the hell does he say that all the time? It's so fucking stupid...Could it be a speech impediment?_

"See ya Mattie! Don't forget to send me my monthly dose of maple syrup!" said the albino as he jogged toward the door, now cleared of all french perverts, angry Spaniards, and hysteric Italians. "Franny! Tonio! Wait up for the awesomeness! Kesesesese~"

"Yeah sure, I'll send you some maple syrup. It would help if I could _actually go and make some_," Matthew muttered as he made his way out the door. He brushed pass the mass of nations who apparently found it too difficult to fucking move an inch as soon as they were in the hallway, and quickly headed outside for a little stroll.

_Ah...those idiots have been so frustrating today. A little walk should help me calm down a bit. Then, I can just go back to the room and continue writing in my beloved notebook. It's been a while since I've written anything about Japan..._

Matthew walked around with a small smile on his face. Although he much preferred the outstanding Canadian wilderness, the busy New York streets were quite fascinating...Until the 20th person walks straight into you. And does _**not**_ apologize.

_Screw you and your impolite people, Alfred._

In the end, he decided to head back to the meeting room, fearing for his life on those dangerous streets full of people who wanted to walk on him. He entered the room and was nearly exploding with joy once he noticed it was devoid of any other nation.

"Ça s'rait donc ben l'fun si y décrissaient tous pis qu'y rev'naient jamais... I hate them all so much..." he sighed as he slumped back in his seat and enjoyed the silence.

"Ve~ Who do you hate?"

Matthew clutched his notebook to his chest as he turned in his chair to see a rather confused Italy staring at him with mild interest.

_Oh tabarnak..._

**A.N. Okay, so about the French... This isn't all proper French. In this fanfic, Matthew speaks mostly in **_**joual**_** which is the 'french slang' in Québec. He also uses Quebecker swears, which are very difficult to translate in English, as they would lose all their meaning. Basically, Quebecker swears are aimed toward religion, so direct translation is impossible. Until I complete my studies in translation (I'm actually gonna start studying that in a week), I can't really translate it any better than "fuck" or "fucking"...or just dismiss it entirely...**

**Translations:**

Mon dieu... C'est impossible d'avoir quelqu'un d'aussi con que lui... = **My god... It's impossible to have someone as stupid as him...**

(...)cristie d'Anglais? = (...)**fucking Englishman?** _(roughly...you can't really translate that very well)_

Tu r'grettes d'avoir passé tellement d'temps avec c't'ostie d'moron là, hein? = **You regret spending so much time with that fucking moron, eh? **

Ostie d'pédale de criss = (_that's another toughie..)_** fucking pedal **_(I know it sounds a bit dumb, but it's much better in French...)_

petit = **little**

l'amour = **love**

Ah, mon cher Matthieu. Bien que j'aime te voir enfin courtiser une demoiselle avec des lettres d'amour, il est mon devoir, en tant que ton cher Papa, de m'assurer que tu le fasse comme il se doit. Viens donc me voir plus tard, dans un endroit plus romantique, et Papa t'aidera avec cette chère petite dame. Et peut-être plus... ;) = **Ah, my dear Matthew. Although I love finally seeing you woo a lady with love letters, it is my duty, as your dear Papa, to make sure you do it as it should be done. Come see me later, in a more romantic place, and Papa will help you with that dear little lady. And maybe more... ;)**

C'est quoi son problème à c't'e criss de Français là? = **What's that fucking Frenchman's problem?**

Va. Chier. Tabarnak. = **Fuck. Off. [insert swear that wouldn't make sense if translated]**. _(also, "Va chier" is literally translated "Go shit", but the expression is the equivalent to "Fuck off")_

Ça s'rait donc ben l'fun si y décrissaient tous pis qu'y rev'naient jamais... = **It would be so fun if they would just fuck off and never come back...**

List of the Quebecker swears I used (if anyone is interested...):

cristie: derivation of the word "christ"

ostie: host (as in 'the sacramental bread')

criss: derivation of the word "christ"

tabarnak: tabernacle

décrissaient (verb: décrisser): derivation of the word "christ", means to 'get the fuck out' or to 'fuck off' (depends on the use)


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N. Ah~ I was finally able to finish chapter three... I was so busy preparing for University and my trip to Toronto (I am going to see FT ISLAND in concert OMGOMGOMG [Hardcore Primadonna if you know what I'm talking about...]) so I wasn't sure if I could finish this up before I would have to leave for a few days... **

**Thankfully, I was able to do this rather quickly (I started about 3 hours ago...distractions, distractions...). Don't forget to tell me if you see any mistakes! (very probable with this chapter)**

**And again, thank you so much for the great reviews and for simply reading this story! It really means a lot to me.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><span>Canadian Frustrations<span>

Chapter 3

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><p>"Ve~"<p>

"Um...H-hey Italy," began Matthew, unsure of what to say. He was still holding on desperately to his notebook and couldn't stop himself from moving around awkwardly in his seat.

_Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit. Okay... Calm down, Matthew. It's okay. It's just Italy. He's as oblivious as Alfred. I just need to distract him and he'll forget all about it. Ummm... God, why is this so hard?_

While Matthew was desperately trying to sort out his panic to find something to distract the Italian, the other kept his (surprisingly open) eyes on the blushing wreck that was the man's face. He was now bent over so their faces could be closer, hoping to figure out what kind of situation he was in. He had simply asked a simple question, right? Why wasn't he answering? Who was he anyway?

"Ve~," he repeated, fascinated by the colour of the man's cheeks. "You look just like fratello when he gets angry! Or embarrassed...or whenever Ludwig is around...or big brother Spain..."

After a few moments of watching the Canadian stutter and shift awkwardly, Italy gave him a look-over to try and determine who he was.

He did look vaguely familiar... A lot like America, actually. But Italy knew it couldn't be him, since he was currently being yelled at by Germany because of that presentation on global warming. That was why Italy was hiding in the meeting room. Germany is so scary when he yells...

He had almost fallen asleep when he started hearing odd noises. First, there was the sound of the door opening and closing. Then a squeak of a chair. And, finally, a soft whisper. Italy could only understand the last bit, which was something like 'I hate them all'.

Italy, who had cowered behind a lamp fearing the wrath of his dear friend, was now convinced he was dealing with a ghost. He couldn't see anyone else in the room! He looked around frantically, now hoping Germany was here, and already had his white flag at hand. He then noticed a strange blur in one of the seats. Italy stared at it intently and was surprised to see the blur define itself into a human form. Not only that, but he also identified this person as a nation! But which one?

The look-over hadn't helped at all. His clothing only confirmed that he wasn't America. One of his states, perhaps? Italy also remembered America mentioning having a brother...

_Oh my god, this is taking way too long... Say something, Matthew, say something! Oh, oh, oh! I know!_

"So, Italy... Um... What about pasta, eh?"

_Oh wow real smooth, moron._

"Ve~ Pasta!" exclaimed the Italian with enthusiasm, momentarily forgetting anything that didn't concern his favourite food. "Pasta is the best! I love pasta!"

Matthew deflated in relief when the Italian began talking about all the different kinds of pasta. _I guess you just don't need to be smooth with this guy after all... Ostie qu'y'é niaiseux._

Italy suddenly stopped his pasta speech. Matthew looked back up at him and saw something absolutely terrifying. Italy looked like he had just been told the most horrible thing known to man and seemed to be on the verge of a loud and agonizing (for everyone else) crying fit.

Matthew's internal panic came back in full force. Not only were the Italian's crying fits atrocious, but the repercussions on Germany's temper were completely terrifying. And, depending on how upset Italy was, it could become life threatening. Matthew felt like passing out. This one looked pretty bad.

"I-I-Italy, w-what's wrong?"

Italy took a step back before choking a high pitched answer.

"When you said you hated them all...did you mean you hated all the kinds of pasta?"

"NO! Oh my god no! I would never say that about pasta! I love pasta! No don't cry, it's okay!" exclaimed Matthew, trying to calm the Italian down. As he was doing so, he began waving both his hands in front of the Italian's face, trying to convey the message that he had _nothing_ against pasta, with his right hand still holding the notebook.

All this panic caused by Italy made Matthew's hands sweaty and, combined with the frantic movements, resulted in the notebook slipping from his hand...and flying directly into Italy's face.

Although the Italian had calmed down a bit, being hit by a brick of paper on the nose was more than enough to bring the tears back...along with a white flag.

"WAAAAAAA! Please don't hurt me! I surrender! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to insult you! I'm just a virgin, you can't kill me! PLEEAAAAA-"

Matthew quickly covered Italy's mouth with his hands and used the strength he built up by playing hockey to pin the Italian to the floor and keep him quiet, before he could run to Germany for help.

"Italy," he said in a panicked whisper, "Calm. Down. I won't hurt you. It was just an accident. I'm really sorry. Please, just stop crying...I'm sorry. I really am..."

Italy, now laying on his stomach, calmed down slightly. His blurred vision became clearer as he blinked the tears away. He felt the other man remove his hand from his mouth and heard him asking if he was okay, but he didn't bother answering. He was distracted by the red notebook that had landed open in front of his face. He struggled to read the words in his awkward position, with Canada still on top of him.

_List of Things that are Wrong with Romano  
>-He is probably the most cowardly person to have lived (perhaps even more than Veneziano).<br>-He swears way too much (out loud...).  
>-He is WAY too loud.<br>-What the fuck is 'CHIGIIIIIIIII'?  
>-He is incredibly useless in every single situation.<br>-He's an ass. All the time.  
>-He won't admit that he is obsessed with Spain AND entirely dependent of him. How annoying.<br>-He says everyone is a pervert and wants to molest him, but he's just as bad with Spain (although he doesn't act on it). It's totally obvious.  
>-That inferiority complex he has because of his brother is exasperating. Get over it, you fuck. Everyone likes your brother more than you; just take it and move on. It's your fault for being such a fucking ass.<em>

Italy didn't have a chance to read the rest as Matthew quickly snatched it up and closed it.

_Fuck, qu'est-ce que ch'fais si y'a lu d'dans? Tabarnak!_

"I-Italy? Are...are you okay?" Matthew asked, rather afraid to know the answer. He still couldn't see the Italian's face, and his unnatural silence was extremely worrisome.

_Maybe it would help if I got off of him..._

As Matthew made a move to stand, he was interrupted by the sound of Italy's voice. It was almost a whisper. Matthew couldn't even identify any emotion from it.

"Who are you again?" Italy asked.

Matthew stopped moving. _I am so fucked._

"I'm Canada..."

"Ah. I see," responded Italy before growing quiet again.

_What the hell? What's that supposed to mean? He's...he's kind of creepy right now... Not even using his little 've~' thing... Can he actually get angry? I. Am. So. Fucking. Screwed._

"What you wrote about my fratello wasn't very nice."

He couldn't get himself to reply. Matthew just stayed on top of Italy, cursing himself. This couldn't get any worse...

"Canada, I just have one question for you," Italy finally said, twisting himself a bit so he could catch a small glimpse of the man on top of him. Italy had tears in his eyes and was clearly upset, but seemed genuinely confused and intrigued at the same time. It was odd to see him with such an expression.

_Still fucked. _

"Um... _O-oui_? I mean...yes?"

"What did you mean exactly when you wrote-"

He didn't have the chance to finish his question as the door was opened by Germany, followed by all the other nations, looking already bored, returning from their break. Their bored expressions turned into shocked ones as they took in the scene before them. A strange and vaguely familiar boy was sitting on top of Italy, who had clearly been crying.

"...Mattie?" questioned Alfred, eyes wide in disbelief.

Matthew didn't pay one bit of attention to his brother. All he could look at was Germany's face getting red and contorted with anger.

"ITALY!" yelled the German, as he darted toward his best friend.

He knew he should have gotten away from Italy as soon as the door opened. He knew he should have stood up, apologized, and explained everything. But he simply stayed there and watched as the enraged German ran toward him.

He knew it was stupid, but Matthew couldn't get that one thought out of his head.

_At least they all noticed me..._

**Translations:**

fratello = **brother (Italian)**  
><em>Ostie qu'y'é niaiseux = <em>**Man, he's dumb. [something like that...]**  
><em>Fuck, qu'est-ce que ch'fais si y'a lu d'dans? Tabarnak! = <em>**Fuck, what do I do if he read it? [insert Quebecker swear]!**  
>Oui = <strong>Yes<strong>

_Swears I used:_

_ostie = host  
>tabarnak = tabernacle<em>


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N. SO SORRY**

**I know it's been a really long time, but University just keeps me sooooo busy! I'll try to update once a week from now on ****(at least)****! This one's a little short...all my chapters are...but I promise longer ones in the future!  
><strong>

**[concert was awesome by the way :D]**

**Thank you all for reading this! And BIG thank you for your reviews!**

**[Don't forget to tell me about typos/mistakes/whatever would be wrong in this chapter]**

**Enjoy~**

* * *

><p><span>Canadian Frustrations<span>

Chapter 4

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><p>"Canada?"<p>

Matthew stirred slightly at the unnecessarily loud voice.

"Canada, can you hear me? Matthew?"

"Mmmm...what?" asked the (now very annoyed) Canadian as he slowly opened one eye. The bright lighting of the room made him feel like his barely exposed eyeball was on fire and he swore to impose the same pain on the idiot who thought it was a good idea to wake him up.

He could see a small and blurry figure hovering above him. He thought about pushing it away or punching the thing's head (_What are those weird huge things over it's eyes?)_, but felt too tired to move. That was one lucky bastard...

"Matthew? Are you alright?" continued the blond figure. "Matthew, say something..."

_Ah ta yeule, crisse..._

He was about to mutter a "M'lright g'night" and turn away to drift back to dreamland, when he heard a loud BANG followed by some muffled noises coming from a nearby room. The unexpected sound caused Matthew to sit up rapidly in shock.

"What the hell wa-OWWW!" Matthew clutched his nose as it was struck by repetitive waves of pain.

"Argh! Watch it you git! I don't want to have a broken nose too!"

Matthew turned to see England (_Oh, the eyebrows... Should have guessed...) _gently rubbing his nose and making sure nothing was out of place. His gaze then lowered to his own clutching hands when he felt warm liquid pouring onto them.

"_Tabar-_"

"Oh crap! Matthew, are you okay?" exclaimed England. He had completely forgotten about Canada and his recent injury as soon as the other smashed his face (although accidentally) against his. _That idiotic American would start panicking again if he saw Canada bleeding like this..._

"Here, take some tissues," he said as he gave a handful to the bleeding boy, who eagerly took them and pressed them unto his nose while slightly tilting his head backwards.

After a few moments of awkward silence, England finally asked, once again, how the other was feeling.

"I-I guess I'm alright..." answered Matthew uncertainly. "What happened?"

"Well, I wanted to ask you that, actually. Don't you remember?" asked England, his face getting slightly red as all the scenarios France came up with to explain the position Canada and Italy were found in popped back in his head.

"Not rea-"

_Wait...Italy...notebook...Germany...oh..._ Matthew's face reddened as he remembered all the day's previous events. _I fucking hate everything and everyone._

"Yeah, I remember... I'm guessing Germany is the reason why my nose is broken?" continued Matthew, only realizing at that moment how odd his voice sounded.

"Yes. He was rather angry. He punched you in the face and threw you off Italy. You passed out immediately."

"So...what happened after?"

_Might as well give him a good report,_ thought England.

"Germany started inspecting Italy's body for...for anything that wouldn't be right. Then, Romano started yelling at everyone and Spain was trying to calm him down. Everyone else was busy trying to stop America from killing Germany for punching you."

"Wow..."

"I know. In the end, Italy said he was fine and Germany calmed down and stepped back, which saved Spain from another punch in the face from Romano. America was a bit more complicated to deal with... Russia even had to team up with Belarus to tie him up and keep him safely away in a room. That was most likely the loud noise from earlier..."

_Oh my fucking God what did I do? How the fuck am I going to fix this?_

"So...now that I explained to you what happened after," said England after a short pause, "care to explain what happened _before_?"

"Before? Oh...well..." _Fuck, qu'est-ce que j'dis? Qu'est-ce que j'dis?_ "You see, I was...umm...we-"

"MATTIE!" a loud American could be heard yelling. Said American could later be seen breaking down a door and practically jumping on top of his northern brother.

"OHMYGOD YOU'RE BLEEDING AGAIN!"

"Stop yelling America!"

"NO! YOU MADE MATTIE BLEED! I TOLD YOU I WOULD TAKE CARE OF HIM!"

"Piling burgers on his nose won't help you twat!"

"WHATEVER OLD MAN YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS OF MY HERO SKILLS!"

"Guys, could you please stop arguing?" asked Matthew in that soft and polite tone of his. Only an expert (of what, no one knows) could hear the (very fucking obvious) annoyance and hatred in the Canadian's words.

But, of course, he was ignored.

"Who are you calling an old man? Bullocks, not everyone who isn't an ignorant and obnoxious teenager like _you _is an old man!"

_Okay, Matthew. Just zone them out. Like you always do. Right. Just like that. Okay, now let's think things through. Italy read part of my notebook. I had him pinned on the floor and accidentally hurt him and made him cry, and that's when everyone walked in. Germany thought I was doing...things...to him so he attacked me. And then everyone went looney and they all forgot about me._

Matthew was starting to feel the rising panic slowly calming back down.

_They actually forgot about me after all that. The only ones who didn't forget are already arguing with each other and ignoring me._

A smug grin made its way to Matthew's face. It only looked ridiculous because of his swollen nose, but he didn't care.

_I'm totally off the hook. They truly are idiots after all... I can't wait to write everything in my...notebook... FUCKING SH-_

"WHAT ABOUT MY NOTEBOOK?"

England and America, startled by Canada's sudden outburst (and sudden appearance, since they had completely forgotten him), ceased their bickering and looked down toward him. They were already at the pillow fight stage of their arguing.

France, who had shown up (unnoticed by Matthew) when he heard the familiar insults being shouted out by his favourite Englishman, found his little _Matthieu's_ interruption absolutely fantastic.

"_Quelle présence~_"

"WHERE-IS-MY-NOTE-BOOK?" said Matthew, his face now pale, with his hands twitching nervously.

"Notebook?" asked Alfred, seemingly deep in thought.

"You mean that red thing Italy ran away with?" began England. "I'm not sure what he did with that. When Germany tried to pick it up, Italy started speaking very rapidly in Italian, snatched the notebook, and ran off..."

"_Oui~_ Everyone is trying to find him,_ incluant moi_. However, I had to interrupt my search for cute little innocent Italy when I heard the argument between my dear friends _Amérique_ and _Sourcils..._"

"Shut it, frog!"

"_Non~_"

"HAHAHAHAHA!"

"America! You idiot!"

Matthew was left to panic on his own, once again. _Calm down, calm down, calm down. As long as no one else reads it, I should be fine. I just have to find Italy before anyone else does... He might still be in the building._

He slowly got off the floor. _Oh wow they didn't even move me to a more comfortable place, those fuckers..._

He looked at his brother and Francis teaming up against Arthur, and, for once, didn't sit down to enjoy the show. Grabbing a few extra tissues, in case his nose would start up again, Matthew discreetly made his way out of the conference room. Being a nation helped to speed up the healing, but you could never be too sure... Especially if he bumped into Germany during his search.

He started by the most obvious places, like washrooms and the kitchen (He _was_ looking for _Italy_.), but couldn't find him. Maybe it would help if he didn't have to ninja roll behind a random plant every time he heard a noise. Thankfully, he was able to hide from any incoming nation. He was pretty sure Norway saw him, but he didn't seem to really care. He was too busy trying to ignore Denmark anyway...

_God dammit where is that little fuck?_ Matthew asked himself, now even taking the time to look in garbage cans. _I've done almost the entire building!_

"_Hola, amigo~_"

Matthew stopped and turned to see a rather worried-looking, although still smiling Spain. _...Seriously? Fuck you, life._

"Ahahaha~... I don't think I've ever seen you before... Are you new?"

_Okay, this is just getting sad. How could he not remember me after what just happened? Fuck you Spain. Oblivious cunt._

"Ummm...not really..."

"Really? Oh... Well, could you help me, _amigo_? I'm looking for my little Lovi~!"

"You're...looking for Romano? I thought everyone was looking for the other Italy."

"Ahahaha, sí... But Lovi ran way too. I don't know why," answered Spain with a sad look.

"Oh. Well, I didn't see him," replied Matthew, hoping to send the Spanish man away as soon as possible.

"Ah, I see. Well, _gracias_ anyway, _mi amigo~_!" And Spain left.

"Wow... I was _almost_ close to being caught..." said Matthew as he watched the other leave. He smiled, thankful of Spain's stupidity, and was again ready to continue his search.

"Yeah, almost," replied another voice.

**Translations:**

_Ah ta yeule, crisse... = _**Oh, shut up [Quebecker swear, derivation of 'christ']**

_Tabar- = _**[about to swear: 'tabarnak']**

_Fuck, qu'est-ce que j'dis? Qu'est-ce que j'dis? = _**Fuck, what do I say? What do I say?**

_Quelle présence~ = _**Such presence~**

_incluant moi = _**including me**

_Amérique = _**America**

_Sourcils = _**Eyebrows**


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N. As promised, a longer chapter (YAY~). I don't know if you can tell, but I just wrote this one according to my mood (a.k.a. improv)... It didn't turn out too bad, I hope...**

**Also, I do have a few ideas for the next chapter, but I can't really decide on what to do. Your feedback would very appreciated for that!**

**As always, thank you soooo much fore reading this and for reviewing. It makes my day. Love you all! Enjoy~**

* * *

><p><span>Canadian Frustrations<span>

Chapter 5

* * *

><p>"Yeah, almost," replied another voice.<p>

Startled, Matthew let out a shrill squeak before facing the source of the voice, already shielding his face with both arms in defense.

"Please don't hurt me!" he pleaded. "I'm not America, I'm Canada," he continued, thinking it might be Cuba again.

"I know that, you fucking moron. _You_ were the one one I was looking for."

Matthew slowly lowered his arms. The Italian accent and characteristic vocabulary of the other made his identity rather obvious, but he felt the need to confirm it.

"Romano?"

"No shit fuckface."

Matthew felt himself relax a little, knowing that the Italians weren't really known for their fighting abilities. But when he took a look at Romano's face, he remembered he was dealing with _South _Italy. Not preppy little Veneziano. He looked angry. _Very_ angry. Or any other emotion that can be associated with a red face. It was a deep red (although that was rather usual...) and the boy looked like he had been crawling around, if you considered the condition of his clothes. That couldn't have helped the Italian's anger...

_Okay man, it's all good. Just lie. Deny. Disappear. Ouin, ça devrait être correct. C't'un ostie d'con anyway._

"Hi Romano," he said with what he thought was a nice, innocent smile. (If you asked Romano, he would say it was like that tea bastard's smile. Looks like Matthew inherited from England when it came to awkward social interactions...) "So, what's up?"

He just stared at him with narrowed eyes. Matthew gulped nervously. Romano just continued to eye him suspiciously and seemed to consider a few replies. As the seconds passed, the mood got more and more uncomfortable.

Finally, the Italian cleared his throat and looked to the side awkwardly. His face got even redder as he fumbled with a button on his shirt and furrowed his brows. He started biting his lower lip and his face became slightly contorted. Were his eyes watering?

_What the fuck? Qu'est ce qu'y fait? He looks more embarrassed than when Spain calls him cute and hugs him..._

This was getting very confusing for Matthew. Romano had managed to stutter out a few words, but they were all in Italian, and he cursed after each one. While our little Canada continued to think this through (after failing to understand the other), Romano was trying to form a coherent sentence in his own thoughts.

_Looks like he's trying to tell me something..._reasoned Matthew. _Ben câlice, no shit he wants to tell me something. I'm guessing it's something a bit embarrassing...or _very_ embarrassing. But what? It can't be about the notebook. His brother would be crying somewhere around. And he would be angry, not embarrassed... Ben ch'pense... Come on, crisse. It's Romano. He should be easy to read._

"So..." Romano finally began with a grimacing face, making it seem like the single act of speaking was painful.

"Mmmmyeah," agreed Matthew, not too sure what to say, and slightly distracted by his intense concentration.

"Well, um...Y-you... Uh... With Feli - I mean my bro – Veneziano...U-ummm... Dammit..." Romano was now reduced to stuttering again as he brought a hand up to partially cover his tomato face.

_...quoi? He looks like he's about to cry! WHAT is going on?_

While Romano was still swearing and throwing random words around (which no doubt could have been rearranged to form a coherent sentence if he tried), Matthew attempted to picture all the events of the day through the Italian's point of view, hoping to figure out what he was thinking.

_Alright, let's do this. His day apparently started with being woken up by "the potato bastard" (a.k.a. Tha Angry OCD Asshole), which probably made him very angry (like about two thirds of the things on Earth). Then, he had to "protect the tomato bastard" (tomato bastard = Dumbass '~' Guy) from being "molested by the French pervert" . Which was probably true...(French pervert = French pervert)... Anyway, after that, he had to sit through Alfred's...presentation...on global warming. Then, he almost got 'loved' by Francis. Again._

_So he had a pretty bad day. I guess that would make him emotional_, thought Matthew. _But it's not like he doesn't go through stuff like that all the time, right? _He decided he needed to go further than that if he wanted to understand the tomato wreck before him.

_Then, he probably had to spend the break with one of the "bastards" and got beyond pissed off/traumatized. After that, he stumbled, along with everyone else, onto his stupid brother and I in a rather...compromising position. He then had to "protect" his brother from a "crazy potato bastard" who was inspecting his body. Spain was then stuck trying to control a hysteric Italian, while the other Italian ran away with a notebook. After that, while all the others went off to look for Italy, Romano ran away for some unknown reason..._

_Wow...that was so FUCKING useless..._

And now, Romano was (still) standing in front of Matthew, embarrassed, red-faced, teary-eyed, and now stuttering nonsense about Matthew and his brother.

_So... The thing that's bothering him is about what happened between me and Italy? Why would it do anything other than make him angry?_

He looked at Romano, who had just slapped his own forehead rather harshly.

"As I was _trying_ to say," he forced out, "you...you seemed to be getting along rather well with my brother...right?"

There was a very long and awkward pause. Romano looked completely vulnerable. And somewhat hopeful for something. And desperate.

_Mais qu'est-ce qu'il... OH. MON. DIEU. Non. Non, non, non, ça s'peut pas._ Matthew's eyes widened considerably when he was finally able to register what he was asked and interpret the meaning of his facial expression. _He actually thinks Italy and I are...? And he... He doesn't...actually l-like me, does he? Oh my god, you're an idiot Matthew. It's totally obvious! Just look at him! Oh and now he must think I'm doing things with his brother! Fuck, what do I tell him?_

"Don't just stare at me, bastard!" yelled Romano, his typical angry expression shortly returning to his face. "Answer me." _(Back to the vulnerable/embarrassed/desperate/hopeful face now.)_ "Do you...g-get along _well_ with my brother."

"Well, I..." _Use tact. Use tact. Use tact._ "Listen, I just... You're not my type, sorry."

There was another long pause, during which Matthew is convinced he invented a few new swears his people (or just _les Québécois_) would love.

"What the fuck did you just say bastardo?"

_Oh-my-god I just bluntly rejected Romano! He's gonna put the mafia on my ass TABAR-FUCKING-NAK!_

"Listen, Romano," Matthew said as rapidly as possible, "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I-I just... I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

Matthew flinched as Romano screeched a loud "WHAT THE FUCK" and made exaggerated gestures with his hands while releasing an explicit thread of Italian profanities. Well that's what Matthew guessed it was... He was probably right.

_Holy shit the guy looks possessed!_

Thankfully, Romano calmed down immediately when he saw Matthew backing away.

"Wait! I...you... It's not what I meant!"

"What?"

Romano rolled his eyes in exasperation, and looked at Matthew with the expression he used to stare at nations like Prussia (ex-nation, in this case...). "Who's the idiot? Your brother or you?"

"...what?"

"Mio Dio!" Romano sighed, his face a little less anger-red and more embarrassed-red after calming down from his fit. "I just wanted to know if there was...something _going on_ between you and my brother. N-not because I l-li...because of what you thought, dammit," he rushed.

"Oh..." _Well I look like a fucking moron..._ "Why, then?"

"I was just thinking that...well...you..." Romano paused and stared angrily at a wall.

"I what?" asked Matthew impatiently. He was starting to grow annoyed of how slow the other was to say what he wanted to say. He was aware of his own stuttering and awkwardness during social interaction and he knew he could more awkward than a grandpa trying to look 'hip' while doing a poor rendition of the twist, but Romano took it to a whole other level.

"You just..." another sigh. "You know how much I don't like that fucking potato bastard right?" Romano's tone had never been softer while talking about Germany. That got Mattie's attention. _This looks kind of serious._

"...yep..."

"Yeah... Well I was just thinking that Veneziano wouldn't hang out with him as much if he found another _friend_ he liked more-"

"What does that have to do with me?" Matthew interrupted. He had a feeling he just got himself in _big_ trouble.

"Let me finish bastardo!" Romano yelled back.. It was already extremely difficult to talk to some stranger about things like that; he didn't need the bastard interrupting him! "As I was saying, I want my brother to make a new _friend_. A better _friend_. A _friend_ I approve of."

_So...by wanting Italy to find a new 'friend', he means a new love interest right? I mean, it's pretty obvious that Italy and Germany have something going on... And after what I heard France say, there's no doubt that they like to...ANYWAY, I still don't get why this applies to m-oh... .Fuck._

"So," continued Romano, not noticing the look of dread suddenly making it's way to Matthew's face, "since you and my brother seem to _get along_...maybe...you would be a better _friend_ than the potato bastard."

"So, you're saying that-"

"I want you to be Veneziano's new _friend_. I'll make it happen," concluded Romano with uncharacteristic confidence. His determination made Matthew think of his own brother. Needless to say, he didn't like it.

"But I don't-"

"Don't you fucking dare argue with me."

"O-okay..."

As Matthew was contemplating various ways to run away from a crazy mobster and as Romano was thinking up plans to get his brother and the stranger-nation-guy (Cana-something) together and the potato bastard _out of his life_, a faint 'Fusososososo~' could be heard approaching.

"Fuck! It's Spagna!"

_Thank fucking GOD SAVE ME SPAIN_

"You!" he pointed toward Matthew. "Go see my brother and get him out of here before the potato bastard finds him. He's hiding in a tree beside an ice cream truck outside."

"You _knew_ where he was the whole time?"

"Of course I did. He always tells me where he is."

"Fusososososo~"

"Go! Quickly!"

Not wanting to miss his chance to run from a demented Italian, Matthew bolted away, passing right in front of an incoming Spain (who didn't notice him partially because of his invisibility, but mostly because the Spaniard just found the little tomato of his life and was overjoyed), and took the nearest exit.

"LOVI~! I was so worried! Who were you talking to?"

"None of your business Spain! Stay away from me you tomato bastard!"

* * *

><p><em>Ostie d'calisse de tabarnak! What the fucking fuck is wrong with all these dipshit nations and their fucked up minds?<em>

Matthew was beyond angry/weirded out/traumatized/exhausted when he took his first step outside. He made sure to keep watch for an ice cream truck. Not because he wanted to find Italy. No. _Hell _no. He wanted to make sure he _avoided_ him. Fuck the crazy Italians. Fuck the oblivious Spaniards. Fuck the perverted French. Fuck the obnoxious Americans. Fuck the fucking world. He was sick of it. Good-bye, he's going home. And he will never, ever, _ever_, go to a world meeting again! The others can all just go and fuck themselves with a-BANG!

"AYOYE TABARNAK!"

Matthew, who had completely lost track of where he was going when he started making plans to escape from the idiot nations, hadn't noticed the (very colourful and almost impossible to miss) vehicle on his path.

_Who the fuck parks right there?_

He took a step back to observe the dangerous piece of metal on wheels. Turns out it was an ice cream truck. Beside a tree.

"Ve~"

A tree containing an Italian. Reading a notebook and letting out sad 've~'s.

"Can't I have a fucking break?"

"Ve~? Oh! It's you! I wanted to talk to you, ve~" Italy said as he climbed (fell) down the tree.

_Oh, so now everyone sees me? Bitch, please. Fuck you._

"Listen. I'm sorry about the whole thing," responded Matthew halfheartedly, grabbing his notebook and guarding it protectively under folded arms, "but I really don't want to talk right now. I just want to go home, feed Kumakiki, and never leave the house again. _Adieu_."

Matthew tried to leave, but was held back by a teary Italian.

"No, wait! I need your help! Please!"

Matthew turned back, surprised. "My...help?"

"Sì! I had no idea all my friends had so many problems. At first I thought you were just being a big meanie, but then I realized that some of the things you wrote were true! We have to help them, ve~..."

Matthew stared at the hopeful, opened eyes of the smaller Italian for a long moment. His face was completely unreadable, and Italy was getting worried.

"Ve~?"

"Oh. My. God."

Italy simply looked at him questioningly, slightly tilting his head. Matthew sighed and rolled his eyes, dropping to his knees and tightening his hold on his notebook.

"Why can't anyone be normal?" he asked himself in a desperate tone.

"Ve~"

**A.N. I just noticed that it may look like I'm bashing other characters or even the actual countries (along with their population) so I would just like to add, if it wasn't clear, that I don't have anything against anyone. I adore every character and I love all the countries and cultures! I'm just trying to write from the perspective of a very frustrated Canada... No racism (or anything close to that) intended! **

**Translations:**

_Ouin, ça devrait être correct. C't'un ostie d'con anyway._** = Yeah, that should be okay. He's a fucking moron anyway. [I kept the 'anyway' for authenticity. Many French-Canadians have a tendency to mash English and French together. I thought Canada would do the same.]**

_Qu'est ce qu'y fait?_** = What is he doing?**

_Ben câlice_** = Well [insert swear]**

_Ben ch'pense..._** = Well I think so...**

_...quoi?_** = ...what?**

_Mais qu'est-ce qu'il... OH. MON. DIEU. Non. Non, non, non, ça s'peut pas._** = What is he... OH. MY. GOD. No. No, no, no, it can't be... **

_Ostie d'calisse de tabarnak!_** = [sweaaaaariiiiing]**

_AYOYE TABARNAK!_** = OW, FUCK! [Kind of...I guess...]**


	6. Chapter 6

**A.N. Okay… So turns out I wasn't able to update this fanfic for a veeeeery long time. I'm really really really sorry… :'(**

**I hope you guys don't hate me! I guess university is much more time consuming than I thought. I also wasn't quite sure which way to go with this. But everything is clear now! **

**I would also like to point out that I WILL FINISH THIS no matter what. I'm hoping this huge update gap thing won't happen again, but if it does, just know that I'm not giving up on this!**

**That being said, thanks for reading and enjoy!**

* * *

><p><span>Canadian Frustrations<span>

Chapter 6

* * *

><p>After the enthusiastic Veneziano had exposed his (self-proclaimed) brilliant plan to help all the other countries with their problems, Matthew had to reluctantly agree to it. He thought it was stupid and simply wanted to push the other guy inside the god damn ice cream truck, tie him down, and <em>run far far away<em>, but he knew he couldn't. Germany already wanted him dead. It was definitely not the time to fuck around with Italy...who was suddenly distracted by a cat passing by. Matthew didn't even take the time to laugh at him and fled to the safety of his hotel room.

The rest of the meetings had been cancelled for the day, or so Matthew's loud Korean neighbour said as he was talking to some girl on the phone. He was relieved, knowing he could just hide in this small hotel room for the rest of the day, but also very nervous whenever he thought of the day that would follow. He looked at his precious little notebook and sighed, thinking he would probably have been better off without it.

As Matthew had thought, the next day was a mess. He hadn't even reached the meeting room and was already being heavily questioned by his dear American brother.

"Duuuude I still don't get it. So you fell on him, made him cry, and just stayed there until he stopped?"

"Well…yeah…" Matthew realized how stupid his lie sounded, but there was no turning back now.

"Why the fuck did you just sit there? That doesn't make sense!"

"B-but it did at the time! Trust me! You would know if you were there from the beginning!"

"Right… Whatever you say, man."

_Fuck… I never thought I would ever be the one sounding stupid. That's Alfred's job. _Matthew sighed as he saw the opened doors of the meeting room and heard the small chatter from inside. Alfred slung his arm around his shoulders when he noticed how nervous the other was.

"Don't worry dude. I'll distract them with a great speech! They won't even notice you!" he exclaimed heroically. "I gatcho back, bro," he added with a wink and a bright smile.

Matthew simply hummed in response. He was hoping that his idiotic brother would be right and that he would just be ignored and forgotten again. Closing his eyes, he entered the meeting room. He waited for someone to comment on him, for whispers, for the casual conversations between the countries to die down… But nothing happened. He opened his eyes and looked around. No one was paying a single bit of attention to him. Even France was too busy watching Russia trying to have a friendly conversation with China. He turned to Alfred and was met with an even brighter smile, which he gladly responded to with one of his own.

_I guess it's going to be alright after all. All I need to do is casually go to my seat and no one will ever-_

"HEY GUYS WHAT'S UP! The HERO and his little brother are in the house!"

Matthew's jaw dropped in horror. All the countries turned to look at the waving American and the now very pale Canadian.

_TABARNAK! Alfred why the fuck are you so stupid? Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuuuuuuuuck!_

Everyone remained silent and just kept staring. Alfred, oblivious as always, dragged his little Mattie to his seat.

"So, are we starting or what?" he asked, turning toward Germany, who kept his eye on Matthew. He only looked away for a second to look at Italy and his innocent smile.

"Ja, I supposed we should now begin. Take your seats, everyone," he said while returning his gaze to Matthew's direction. All the nations quietly sat down and started looking through today's schedule.

"Hum… Well… I believe I am the one who is scheduled to speak first today," England said as he stood up and fixed his tie. He awkwardly stood there for a few moments, scanned the room filled with almost equally awkward-looking nations, and walked to the small podium to begin his speech.

Matthew sighed heavily, feeling a bit lightheaded. He was happy that the attention was no longer on him. Or at least, most people weren't staring. He kept on having weird eye contact with Germany and he could just feel France's creepy staring. He also noticed Italy glancing in his direction once or twice. Russia also looked at him for a bit. And so did Prussia. Okay, so many were still intrigued by him, but it looked like it was dying down.

After a few moments, when Matthew was finally able to relax a bit thanks to England's lack of skill to make presentations interesting, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He immediately turned toward Alfred, thinking it was probably him. Not many people bothered to text him. However, his brother was too busy playing Angry Birds on his IPhone. Matthew then looked at Francis, the only other possibility. He was just casually flipping through what seemed like a fashion magazine. Well, that took him off the small list of suspects. France had the habit of staring at people when he texts them if they're in the same room.

_It's probably just a spam message,_ he thought. _Might as well delete it._

He took out his phone and hid it carefully on his lap. Angering Germany by not caring for the meeting would be a very bad move. He sneakily looked at the screen.

_New Message  
><em>_From: 'Romano/ S. Italy'_

He frowned and looked up. He found Romano sitting a bit further down to the right across the table, staring right back at him with an evil little smile. His head was resting on his intertwined hands and his elbows were on the table. His smile grew to show some teeth when he saw Canada finally looking back.

_Oh shit… This can't be good. He actually looks scary… Christ._

Matthew broke the eye contact to look back at his phone. He inhaled heavily and decided he should read that text. No matter how much he just wanted to ignore it and pretend Romano wasn't staring at him and everything was totally fine, he was better off with a heads up of what might be coming his way.

_From: 'Romano/ S. Italy'  
><em>_Message: Did you think I forgot about you bastardo? I have great plans for you. You and I are going to become greeaaat friends. You can choose to cooperate or not, just like I can choose to make your life miserable or not. Meet me by the ice cream truck outside during the break. That's an order you fuck._

Matthew looked back at Romano, who still had that evil grin on his face. He also noticed how uneasy the Spanish man sitting beside him looked. Not wanting to deal with all this crap anymore, he stood up, grabbing everyone's attention. He looked around the table one last time, meeting the eyes of an annoyed German, a rather insulted Englishman, and a few confused countries. Without a word, he bolted out of the room. He ignored Alfred's shouting for him to come back and just got to his hotel room as fast as possible. He called his boss and made up an excuse to be sent back home right away.

* * *

><p>A few hours later, finally arriving back to his beloved home, he picked up his Kumakita and went straight to bed, not bothering to unpack.<p>

"I'll just stay here and do my own business. I just need to stay away from all of them. They'll forget about me eventually and everything will go back to normal. Right Kumajumo?"

He hugged his little bear tightly while thinking about all he had gone through in the past few days.

"Who?"

"Yeah, I thought so too," Matthew responded with a bitter smile. He sighed and tried to clear his mind. He really needed some sleep.

* * *

><p>As he had told himself, Matthew broke all contact with the outside world. Since he was always so hard-working, his boss never thought the excuses the nation gave him to not meet up with other nations were lies. Matthew was always a good boy, so lying and pretending he was not feeling well or had other very important private things to do was obviously something he would never do. So that's how Matthew spent the next two months.<p>

Alfred had texted him and called him very often at first and even showed up at his house when he got frustrated after receiving no answers. Matthew just had to hide in a closet and Alfred left after 4 hours of waiting and emptying his kitchen. He gave up on trying to contact him after that. Prussia also came by, but was gone after barely standing on Matthew's porch for a few moments when he noticed a bottle of maple syrup with his name on it. The smart Canadian had predicted Prussia's eventual quest for maple syrup and had prepared a bottle on his porch so the other could just come and go without having to talk to him. Before leaving, the awesome man had thought about going inside to see what Canada was doing, but decided it would just waste his precious awesome time. France sent him a bouquet of roses with a creepy letter, but that was it.

Matthew's biggest problem was the Italian brothers. Both kept calling, texting, and sending him e-mails (and nice fancy-looking letters, in Veneziano's case) to try and work out their individual plans. North Italy left him annoying and whiny messages on his phone and tried to convince Matthew to meet up with him with promises of food. Romano, on the other hand, kept on sending him threatening e-mails and texts. Matthew also stopped listening to his voicemails since the angry Italian would do nothing but yell and curse. Thankfully, the two Italians were too lazy to actually try to go see Matthew in person. They were very persistent with the rest, though. None of them seemed ready to give up anytime soon.

During all that time, Matthew had restarted writing in his notebook. He was hesitant at first because of the whole incident, but ended spilling out all his frustrations and worries. He found himself getting amused when he quoted the things the Italies sent him. It made him feel a little better about the whole thing.

It was annoying and stressful, yes, but Matthew could tolerate it. He was a Canadian, after all. Others might not see it, but Canadians are tough and can handle such situations. He was, however, getting pretty nervous about the next World Meeting. That one would take place in Rome, on the 7th of June, and there was no way he could escape it. He was forced to go to Italy, out of all places. Okay, he wasn't just nervous. He was scared. North Italy was one thing. South Italy was another one. A very violent and loud one.

Matthew took a peek at his calendar and cringed when he noticed how fast the 7th of June was approaching. It was only two weeks and a few days away. Soon, all his efforts of the past two months to hide from the two Italian brothers will become completely useless, and he might find himself in a very horrible and Italian-filled situation.

**A.N. Sorry if this chapter was a bit boring. It was to build up the next one. I hope you still enjoyed it though ^^**

**Off to Italy~**


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